


Car Troubles

by Last_Haven



Series: Love Is [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Haven/pseuds/Last_Haven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Arthur just wanted to get away for a while, instead he met a befuddling mechanic who captures his attention a little too quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Car Troubles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for usxuk's Sweetheart Week. Prompt was 'Worlds Beyond'. AU; beta-read by the lovely Ellarose C/hotbabysitter.

“I’ve fallen in love with someone,” Amelia announced as soon as both her parents settled down on the couch across from her. It had taken ages longer than she hoped to get the two former spouses together in the same place, and her confession was rattling her every nerve the longer she held it in. “I’m going to marry him whether you like it or not.”

Her parents laughed at her. “So overdramatic,” her mother chuckled as she took a sip from her cappuccino. “You say it like he’s a serial killer.”

“Really, pumpkin,” her father joined in, grinning at her as he rested his chin against his knuckles. “I’m sure whoever this guy is, if you’re so set on marrying him, he must be a good man. I’m glad you’ve found someone who managed to convince you to settle down at any rate!”

“Now, dear, why don’t you tell us about this man? I haven’t heard a peep about any boyfriend before this.”

“Me neither,” her father frowned, raising his head again. “He is a good man, ain’t he?”

 _Well, they seem to be taking this rather well, over all,_ she mused. “Oh, don’t worry about that—he can be such a pain, but I’m sure you’ll like him,” she answered before pausing to smile mischievously at them. “We wanted to keep things low-key for awhile. I’m sorry it took so long to tell you.”

“You’re a big girl, Amelia,” her mother replied, reaching out to pat her hand. “We trust you to tell us important things when you’re ready to. But I’m sure your father would like to meet this man soon, wouldn’t you, George?”

“Damn right I do!”

Amelia smiled. “Soon, I promise. Although… perhaps I shouldn’t introduce you though. Knowing you two, you’ll join forces with him and tease me to death.”

Her parents laughed again. “But really, dear—who is this man?”

The butterflies in her stomach were trying to climb out her throat; her smile wobbled, but didn’t vanish. “His name is Arthur.” Her parents shared a smile so she forced herself on. “He’s a prince.” Her mother chuckled while her father beamed at her. “Of Britain.”

Both her parents burst into warm laughter before quickly trailing off when they saw the look on her face.

“…Pumpkin? That was a joke, right?”

She shook her head. “No, daddy. I’m completely serious.”

Her mother and father shared a look before her mother quietly sat her drink down, brow furrowed in confusion. “Perhaps you should start from the beginning.”

 

* * *

 

 

HRH Prince Arthur glared at the engine of his car; when willing it to life failed to work, he kicked the tire and cursed. “Useless piece of shite,” he grumbled as he wrenched open the driver’s door and flung himself into the seat. Digging his keys back out of his pocket, he kept cursing. “Utter crock—I’m a naval officer, not a car mechanic—oh, start up, you bloody useless thing!”

When beating on the dashboard proved of little help besides relieving some of his frustrations, he shoved his door back open and then slammed it behind him as he got out. Around him, the moor surrounding the road was silent except for the faint whistle of wind over ground. At least it wasn’t foggy—it had been bad enough driving down the lonely road on a new moon when it was too dark to enjoy the scenery, he hadn’t needed his car to start smoking as well. On top of that, he’d left his mobile phone back in his room.

After being dragged home for a day to be with his family and posing for pictures, all he had wanted was to escape to a town where no one would expect him, where he could hide in disguise for a day or two before returning to school. Now he was stranded with a busted car and no idea how far away the next town was.

“Well,” he sighed, giving his car one last glare before turning up his collar and starting off down the road. “Might as well find someone with a phone.”

At least his shoes were comfortable for a hike—mostly—but just as he was prepping himself for a very long walk, he spotted a faint glimmer of light. He paused and squinted into the night, but the light never faded. Grinning in relief that he finally found some luck, he began to hurry onward.

The light turned out to be a yard light, and despite the late hour, there were still lights on in the house. Murmuring a grateful prayer, he jogged up to the house and knocked briskly on the door.

After a few minutes, a woman came to the door and peeked out at him curiously. She was clad in a pair of very short shorts and a thin top, perhaps her pajamas, and a sweatshirt that was at least two times her size. “Can I help you?” she asked as she put one hand on her hip and cocked her head to the side.

She was a foreigner, he’d bet good money on it even if he couldn’t place her accent with so few words to go on. He coughed. “Beg your pardon, but can I borrow your phone? My car broke down and I don’t have my mobile on me.”

She blinked at him. “You need a wrecker?”

He stared at her. “A what?”

“A—a breakdown lorry? Whatever, do you need to be towed?”

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he nodded warily. “Yes.”

She stepped out of her door, causing him to scramble back down a step to give her space; she raised an eyebrow at him before glancing down the road. “Well, I’ll tell you right now, ain’t no one gonna tow it until the morning. None of them boys are gonna get out of bed before dawn at least. What seems to be the problem?”

He gaped at her a moment before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. _So much for luck._ “It started to make a funny noise, and then the engine started to smoke. Are you sure someone won’t come help me until the morning?”

“Sure as can be,” she quipped, turning back to him with a smile. “When’s the last time you put antifreeze in the engine?”

“Antifreeze?”

“You aren’t exactly the sharpest tool in the box, are ya?”

He gaped for a moment and then glared—it had been a while since anyone besides his siblings or his friends had insulted him so pointedly. “I beg your pardon?”

“Engine coolant,” she explained. “When’s the last time you refilled it?” He stared at her blankly; she actually laughed at him. “That might be your problem. Is your car all locked up?”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled at him and opened her door up wide as she stepped back and gestured him in. “Why doncha come in here out of the cold. You’ve got a long wait and I ain’t sleepy in the least. We’ll call you a wrecker in the morning and I’ll give you a lift to the shop.”

He was staring again—first she insulted him, now she was inviting him in. While he and his brothers like to tease their sister about women being so fickle, this woman seemed to beat all others in that category. “I think it would be better to go wait in my car.”

“Nonsense! It’s warm in here, and I could use the company. Besides, _I_ am the village’s mechanic.” She grinned. “So, it’s not like you’re out of my way. My name’s Amelia Jones; welcome to my home.”

He stared at her a moment, debating whether he could stand to be near such a rude person for a whole night. A stiff, chill breeze settled it for him and he stepped cautiously into the house. It was warm inside; the door opened into a bright living room filled with little knickknacks and several bookcases, shelves full to the brim. She beamed at him despite his reserved expression and gestured to the coat rack beside him. “My name’s Arthur,” he said at last.

“All right then, Arthur. You can leave your coat and hat there and join me. Would you like something to drink?” she offered before turning to saunter off to the couch. For a moment, his gaze fell to her very long legs as the sweatshirt bounced along to her movements. What a pair of legs they were, long and strong, with actual meat on her calves and thighs, and delicate feet. It was a shame she was rude and the sweatshirt hid any curves from view—with legs like that, she had to have a lovely arse as well even if her personality might not match up.

“Well?”

He jerked his head up; she looked too amused for her not to have noticed where his gaze had been. “What?”

“Would you like something to drink?” she repeated with a grin.

“Oh, um, no, I’m fine,” he answered before glancing away. Now they had both been rude; perhaps he should just call it even. How embarrassing at any rate—if his mother had seen that, she would have boxed his ears for it. God forbid he’d done it in front of any reporters; he shuddered and continued to keep his gaze firmly averted until they landed on the telly. He brightened as he realized what she was watching. “Is that Doctor Who?”

“Yep. I think it said it was ‘Vincent and the Doctor’.”

“Oh, that’s a good episode!” he smirked and shrugged off his coat; he left his hat on to help hide his eyebrows. People tended to recognize him the moment they saw them since all of his siblings had the same eyebrows. Still, she didn’t seem to mind as he joined her on the sofa.

“Don’t tell me how it ends! I haven’t seen it yet.”

 

* * *

 

 

They spent most of the night watching television as they chatted; despite their rough start, Amelia made for a very chatty companion, and at least she was interesting enough not to bore him. She explained that she was American— _ah,_ he thought, _that explains so much_ —born in Philadelphia, but raised in the south until her parents split up, her mother taking her twin sister with her while she remained with her father. He taught her everything he knew of cars, but she ended up following her love of Tudor era history to England. A friend of her mother’s rented the cottage out to her, and she had bought the auto repair shop when the former owner retired with no one else qualified to take over. She told him many stories, mostly quirky and amusing ones ranging from the time a snake got hooked onto her pant leg and was dragged behind her down a mountain as she ran screaming, to when she got drunk off her face doing shots of tequila with a man in Dublin who turned out to be a famous writer who left her with an autograph scrawled across her breasts which she only found once she woke up in the bathroom. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but it was late morning when he awoke, tucked under a quilt while the smell of bacon wafted through the air.

True to her word, she called the lorry and drove him to town on her motorcycle, some rare specimen of Harley-Davidson, but he missed most of the details as he stared in bemusement while she gushed over it. His eldest brother didn’t dote on his children as much as Amelia cooed about her bike.

It was noon before they got his car in the shop; she diagnosed that he had overheated the engine, but decided to keep digging around as she kept finding other little problems that had left him mystified for months. They kept talking as she worked, him handing her tools whenever she demanded one. He should have been annoyed or at least bored, but she spoke with such good cheer and never pressed for more when a question hit a little too close to home that he enjoyed himself so much that he forgot to leave his hat on. It was actually a disappointment when she ran off to her office to answer her phone and came back carrying a newspaper. Across the front page, a picture of his family stared up at him damningly as she dropped the paper next to him.

Cringing at the loud thud of the paper, he glanced up at her. Her face was poker blank for a moment before her gaze flickered up to meet his eyes. Her lip trembled for a moment, but then her mouth quickly spread into a grin and she began to howl with laughter. “Ya know, I thought you looked familiar, but I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” she finally said, half collapsed against the engine. “Jesus, Meggy ain’t never gonna believe I had a prince in my house. That explains why you get so fidgety when I ask you about your family. Well, heh, I suppose this means I should work extra hard on your car, to get it up to snuff, huh? Hand me the three quarter wrench, will ya?”

And that was all she said of the matter; he waited for something else, perhaps to be besieged by inquiries about what his family was really like or even a simple request for an autograph. Instead, she worked steadily on his car, her chatter kept to easier topics like who was the best Doctor. For being stranded in an out of the way village with an American who enjoyed occasionally insulting him, he was surprised by how relaxed he felt.

When it came time to close the shop, she explained that she would need time to fix his car. “And while I don’t mind keeping you around for a houseguest, you probably have other things you want to do than putter around my house for a couple days, doncha?”

As interesting as the day had been, he had to shake his head. “I’m going to be expected back to school tomorrow afternoon—if my car isn’t going to be fixed by then, I still need to head back.”

She nodded and pulled out her mobile phone. “Got someone who can come get you? You can have them come pick you up at my house if you don’t want to do it right in the middle of town.”

Nodding gratefully, he took the phone and dialed the number of his flat mate and friend. After explaining what happened and listening to his Portuguese friend’s mild teasing—then again, anything was mild in comparison to what his siblings could dish out—he agreed to come pick Arthur up.

“All taken care of?” Amelia asked as she took the phone back.

“Yes—my friend will take a few hours, but I’ll be out of your hair before the day’s out.”

“Hooray, let’s throw a party!”

He frowned as she began to wander over to her bike without him; she flashed him a cheeky grin as she held out the spare helmet to him. “I’m afraid that I just don’t understand you, Miss Jones,” he announced as he took the helmet from her.

“Amelia,” she corrected him, leaning forward to give him space to settle in behind her. “And why’s that, _Artie?”_

He glared up at her. “Arthur. My name is Arthur, and that is what you should call me by.”

“Actually, I do believe I should call you ‘your royal highness’,” she quipped, digging her keys out of her pocket. “Now then, are you going to tell me why you don’t understand me or are we gonna sit here and split hairs all night?”

He shoved his helmet on to stall for a moment. “What I don’t understand is how you can be so rude one moment and so—so sociable the next.”

She had the audacity to laugh at him. “Ah, that’s simple. I just like to tease people and _you_ are very easy to tease. You get bent out of shape so easily.”

It was a good thing she couldn’t see his glare behind the helmet’s visor. “Just drive.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

Now he had to smirk. “What, getting ‘bent out of shape’ already?”

After a long, contemplative look, she tossed back her head and laughed. “So, you do have a sense of humor in there—I was beginning to wonder.” Before he could reply, she started the engine and quickly sped off, leaving him to yelp and wrap his arms tightly around her waist.

They spent the wait bickering over snacks and picking apart whatever show they could find on Amelia’s telly. Arthur was so caught up in their banter, that he nearly missed the firm knock at the door. Yelling one last time at the screen, Amelia got up and hurried to the door.

“Arthur,” she called after a moment. “I think your ride’s here.”

Perking up, he stood and turned to the door only to find that it wasn’t his roommate, but rather Kiku, one of his family’s chauffeurs. Kiku was a nice chap when Arthur could talk to him alone, but he became stiff as a board when someone else joined them. “Your highness, I was sent here to collect you. If you have anything you need to take with you, please allow me to put them in the car for you. We can leave afterward.”

Arthur frowned. “As grateful as I am, what are you doing here? I called my roommate, not any of the staff.”

“It seems you were not the only one with car troubles—when he could not get his car to start, your roommate contacted the school, and they got in touch with your parents.”

 _Well,_ he mused as he hesitantly nodded, _seems as though my little holiday is over._ He paused, confused at his own thought before shaking his head and walking over to grab his coat and hat. Once he pulled them on, he turned back to them. “I’m ready.”

Kiku nodded. “Someone will come to collect your car and return it to the palace for repairs. I am sure you will have it back shortly.”

Amelia snorted behind them. “Does this mean I’m not gonna get paid?”

Kiku stared at her—perhaps he had forgotten she was there in the first place—and began to apologize, quick to assure her that he hadn’t meant that she wouldn’t receive some compensation. Arthur watched as she laughed and soothed Kiku. Watching them, Arthur quietly made his decision.

“Actually, I would prefer it if Miss Jones were the one to finish the repairs.”

Now both Kiku and Amelia were staring at him; while he had spent his entire life being stared at, for some reason the intensity of their stares slipped past his defenses and began to needle at him so he had to struggle not to fidget. At last, Amelia smiled and turned from them. “If that’s the case, I’m gonna need a second.”

As she slipped out of the room, turning a corner and out of sight, Kiku took his chance and leaned over to whisper. “Your highness, are you certain of this? Your parents have already arranged for someone to pick the car up.”

Arthur coughed to clear his throat while he fumbled with his coat buttons. “Quite sure. I’ll call my parents and tell them myself if need be.”

Kiku paused as if expecting more before leaning back and nodding.

Amelia finally returned, holding a folded up piece of paper. “My number,” she explained as she handed the sheet to Arthur. “In case you need to get a hold of me for the car.”

Without thinking, Arthur took the slip of paper and quickly stuffed into his pocket, rather than let Kiku intercept it. His poor chauffeur looked a little baffled, but fortunately didn’t ask what had gotten into his prince; to be fair, Arthur wasn’t sure he could explain it.

After a bit more talking, Kiku finally managed to herd Arthur out the door. As he slipped into the back seat of the car, his hand slipped into his pocket to run his fingers over the note.

Bizarrely, the note felt like a promise or a sign. Arthur carefully curled his fingers around it and wondered what it could mean.

And that was the beginning.


End file.
